


win one, lose all.

by jyoou



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Fluff and Angst, M/M, Pre-Canon, Promptwatch, Reaper76 - Freeform, anyway i'm a mess, but it's not entirely angst .......??????? so uh, honestly i'm not sure if this is considered fluffy enough to be fluff, r76, this is also a mess tbh
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-14
Updated: 2017-01-14
Packaged: 2018-09-16 21:53:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,137
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9291137
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jyoou/pseuds/jyoou
Summary: Not everything has to be a game.To those two, though, it always was.for Promptwatch Week 1 - Traditions!





	

**Author's Note:**

> a second contribution to [promptwatch week one](http://promptwatch.tumblr.com/)! albeit a bit. . . late  
> enjoy! and ofc please,,, be gentle with me

**Competition** : an event or contest of supremacy between two or more; an act which always pit groups or individuals against each other, and more often than not, a type of rivalry being born from them. There are those who partake in them, ones who provide support, others who simply observe, and of course, the winners and the losers. Many things can be pushed into a battle of wits or brawn, but that does not mean that everything has to be a contest.

Unless if you make it to be.

Jack Morrison and Gabriel Reyes; for the longest time, they had worked together and been together–where you saw one, you would surely see the other. Regardless of their friendship, the two were in constant attempts to one-up each other in everything; from simple tasks like chores, to ridiculous ones of pure luck; even in the battlefield, where they would bet on who would use the least bullets or who could take out the most thugs. Everything was a match to them, but no matter who won, nothing in their relationship would change, save for the teasing and bragging that’d never be let go.

“One more for the book,” Reyes taunted, a smirk forming on his lips as he sat back down. Today, it was tossing paper into a wastebasket–a rather mundane challenge, but considering the fact that there was no work at the moment, neither of them had any better ideas. “I thought your aim would be better than mine, but I guess not.” He motioned to the other’s appointed trashcan, which was surrounded by crinkled balls and nowhere as full as his own. 

A sigh exhaled, the blond began to make his way to the mess, “Maybe you just have a better throwing arm than I do.” A poor excuse, he knew that, along with a bad way to save face. “Alright, hit me with it.” Fingers brushed back his hair once he was done picking up his trash, Jack prepped himself for whatever the next words would be heard in the room. With losing, came penance. Out of the two, he always thought that his partner came up with the more crude ones–it made him regret being too nice on the times he won.

His chair swiveled left and right, a soft hum emanated as Reyes pondered about how to humiliate the other. There was so much he could do; tell him to wear the most ridiculous piece of clothing, to do his paperwork for him, take care of the newcomer, make him do something stupid at an important event, all that fun stuff. “How about,“ he trailed off for a moment, arms crossing above his chest. “I decide whenever I think of something?”

“Is that even allowed?” Eyes squinted and a huff exhaled, Morrison practically had a pout laid bare, though it was only for the briefest second before his hands rested on his waist. Was he surprised? Of course not; they were practically opposites of each other, and with Gabriel being the leader of Blackwatch, he had already prepped himself for tricks and loopholes.

“Never said we couldn’t.” A smirk adorned his lips. Reyes knew there was so much he could do with the temporary power he held over the other–but honestly, it just didn’t feel like there was any genius way to get the best out of it. Sure, last time he made him use skipping as his main and practically only form of transportation, silly hand motions included–and yes, it was truly a sight to behold. There was something more, though, that he could use it for; he just had to think of it.

Gabe knew it’ll come to him eventually.

Jack, on the other hand, only showed his exasperation in sighs. Whatever it was the other had planned for him, would hit him when he least expected it, he acknowledged that much. People still haunted him about _last time_ , and he could only assume it would get worse from there. “I hate you,” his voice was flat with no sense of sternness behind his words despite the fact his visage was deadpan, directed at the other.

“Ha, tell me something I don’t know.”

“Gabe… I love you.“

Bronze orbs blinked in succession, his mind paused for a moment as he processed such words. “ _God,_ spare me,” Reyes finally groaned, a hand resting on his face. His eardrums rang from his companion’s burst of laughter, but ultimately in the end, he couldn’t help but join in as well. “I can’t believe you.”

Jack was beginning to calm down, his breaths staggered and arms wrapped around his torso, “Couldn’t resist it.“ The lack of oxygen almost made him feel light headed, the following deep inhales allowing him to regain composure and ridding the aching feeling in his lungs. “You set yourself up for that one,” he added, propping himself just over the corner of a nearby desk, not too far from the other.

It nursed their moods to enjoy some form of hilarity once in a while, their occupations constantly being dealt with in a rather dark and gloomy atmosphere. Relaxation was hard to come by as well, especially taking into mind the rising revolts and rampages going on with omnics. Current events were going to be a mess, but the two always tried to make sure neither one of them would lose their sanity over it.

Gabriel had written a little reminder for himself about their previous exchange, folding the post-it and cramming it into his pocket. “If that’s how you flirt, then I’m not surprised that you’re still single even with _those_ looks,” he retorted, words coated with a mocking tone. From his back pocket, he retrieved a slim pack of gum, casting a piece into his mouth before tossing it to Jack.

The toss allowed the package to land neatly in his hands with minimal effort from him, fingers lifting the tiny tab. “I have you,” the blond snickered, his friend audibly groaning in response to such affection. It was always enjoyable for him to poke fun at Gabe in ways that made him feel slightly uncomfortable–he never took it over the line, as it should stay. As he slipped a tablet of gum through his lips, his syllables came slightly drawn out, “And you’re more tiring than any person I’ve been with.”

_Pop._

“I’m flattered,” his timbre caustic, Reyes rolled his eyes and leaned back in his chair. His gaze was kept on the other, already aware of the curl on his mouth from his response, a shake of his head as if dismissing the thoughts that weren’t voiced. 

They practically knew everything about one another; their history together enabled that. There was hardly a topic that would go uncovered, and there was nothing that they couldn’t talk about. Secrets? Those were shared between them. Even sensitive things, things some would refuse to discuss–those were expressed, and they respected each other for it. Their choices, opinions, actions and words–all of it. 

_Pop._

The pair sat in silence for a moment, only the sounds of their bubbles bursting and breaths echoing in the room. When one broke, another would out live the previous by mere milliseconds before rupturing as well. 

All you could hear down the halls were pops for the next ten minute

—

“Five?”

“Five.”

“You’re sure.”

“… Maybe six?”

“ _Jack._ ”

“Alright, alright, get five.”

What were they up to now? ’ _Practice,_ ’ as Morrison liked to call it. Others, on the other hand, referred to what they were doing as a pain. It was a simulated shooting test, limited ammo and moving targets included. Granted, said targets were made to be armed with styrofoam darts, but it was nothing lethal or dangerous–just the fact that certain objectives had to be fulfilled under the allotted time lest it would be considered a failure. Jack never found so much trouble with it, being one of the people who always succeeded.

“You’re killing me here.” Gabriel let out a breath loud enough for his earpiece to pick it up, adjusting his beanie as he peered over the ledge of the wall where he was crouched behind. He, as well, had no difficulty with this sort of challenge; it was just annoying. From his location, his eyes could spot two of the dummies to the left, one more in motion further down–the other two, if he had to guess, were hidden in buildings. The air gun provided had just the right amount of pellets in it, which meant there was absolutely no room for mistakes if he wanted to get this done and over with.

Jack, who was observing from above in the control station, had already done his run for the day–and so came the bet of who could do the best in the least amount of time. As per usual, there were no qualms about either one’s levels of confidence, making it almost a battle of pride. “Ready when you are,” he spoke, making sure the microphone of his headset was close enough to his mouth. Though the height allowed him to see all, his eyes were glued onto Reyes’ form, every movement and action being made note of.

And then there was the fact that if he messed up, he could make fun of him for it.

Another exhale–another quick survey. After a moment to collect himself, Gabriel gave a thumbs up towards the tainted window where the strike-commander was, soon ditching the starting area and making a run for the faux building closest to the targets. He watched them for a few seconds–they were still and there seemed to be no tricks involved, but he knew it just looked like that. There was no time for him to fully assess what would happen though, so with quick aim and fire–

_Two down._

“Thirty seconds in.”

He was almost tempted to take out the earpiece; friendly reminder or not, it was just so much easier to do things his way: in silence. A quick glare was shot up in attempt to get that point across. Once that was done, Reyes averted his focus back to the task at hand, moving towards the fallen substitutes. Was it clear? He had thought so, having stood there for a bit–until a sudden breeze had passed him, causing a cautious duck for shelter.

 _From where?_ He took a quick survey of the area around him, from the dart that stuck onto the wall behind him to past the dummy he saw earlier. Nothing. Perhaps it was the trap that his previous actions had triggered, but that thought only made him think there was more to come–he had no room to check out the situation. Head popped out, brown hues were fixated on the robot a few meters ahead, the angle of his gun still and–

_Three._

From above, Morrison was already aware of the relative positions between the test subject and the objectives. The way the former was glancing about, he knew that it wasn’t to make sure of his safety–it took him a bit as well to find the last two, but it wasn’t undoable. It was, however, how they managed to make the time tick without the awareness of many. Jack knew that; Gabe would catch on, too.

Wrist lifted up, he took a quick glimpse of the time, looking back to find Reyes moving deeper into the maze. A minute and twenty seconds in–and per the other’s request, he did not relay that information. The reason for it escaped him, but it was better not to pry than to receive an earful for it; a not-so-happy Gabriel Reyes was not the most enjoyable to be around, even if it didn’t last very long with him. A double check to make sure his mic wasn’t picking anything up, his gaze followed the moving figure–he was now traveling through the opened roof rooms with haste.

The leader part of him was enticed on giving instructions and directions–the rest of him respected his peer more than enough to subdue those temptations. Arms crossed and breath steady, he forced his lips into a thin line to prevent any words wanting to escape, a careful watch of what was occurring below. For a bit, he couldn’t really discern what the man was doing; it just looked like he was scurrying back and forth, causing the blond to tilt his head to the side–he almost flinched once the small _ding_ echoed the room.

_Four._

That one was found sitting in the corner of one of the hiding spots, the fifth audible but nowhere to be seen. It felt like he had been in here for an eternity, though he knew it was only a minute or so–with bleak walls surrounding him and nothing but the sounds of his footsteps and breathing, it was fit enough to put the untrained to break. Gabriel never liked these kind of regimes; sure, maybe they helped and yes, they weren’t hard–but just the fact that he could be doing something else was enough for him to dislike it. 

Besides, being on the field was much better.

Ears were able to track down the soft hums of machinery from his last target, feet swiftly yet carefully making their way to the approximate destination. His eyes scouted the area–perhaps he found the fifth? Something was sticking out past the corner, but whether it was what he was looking for or just a stray object, he couldn’t tell, nor did he have the ammunition to see. There was the choice to get closer, but it was risky; there was almost no space to roam, and if he got hit, it’d be over–but losing was not an option.

A single step forward, his hands were poised in front of him as if ready to shoot, not even aware that he was holding his breath. The whirring was getting louder, but with all the walls rebounding it, there was almost no way to eliminate any choices. One bullet, one target–and time was still ticking. Reyes knew he had to do something, and it had to be soon. With nothing solid to work with, he did what he did best; trust his instincts, and…

_Beep!_

With a long awaited exhale, he watched his surroundings transform, the walls around him retracting into the ground, revealing that he had–indeed–succeeded, the stiff droid lying on the ground. He felt _exhausted,_ almost as if all his energy had been drained out of him. A flop as he fell backwards onto the ground, he stared as if peeking through the shaded panes, voice soft, “The worst.”

Jack let out a small laugh, returning those looks even if it couldn’t be seen through the windows. “You didn’t have to do it,” he spoke, bringing the microphone closer to his curled lips. That was partially a lie; if, for whatever reason, Gabe had refused to take part in the trial, he’d let him go–but at the cost of mockery, which was well enough a motivator for both of them. Losing and facing punishment, strangely enough, wasn’t as bad as the treatment they gave each other for not trying in the first place.

“And have you give me shit? No thanks,” Gabriel retorted, a scoff following his words soon after. His figure remained flat for a while, chest heaving slowly as he listened to his rival go on and on about how he almost lost his composure watching him go back and forth. It put him at ease a bit, just listening and all, but he had to interject; “How bad?”

“Not too bad; two thirty six,” Jack said, confirming it again with his watch. “Fifteen seconds too long, though.”

He expected that, but a loss was still a loss. Hands rubbing his face, a soft groan departed his lips to exhibit his discontent. “What now?”

“Come back up and you’ll find out.”

“I hate you already.”

—

Biotic emitters littered the area, their empty cans rolling across the ground at the slightest breeze. The ones he had left were damaged or malfunctioning, and the pain on his side felt as if it was spreading everywhere else; it made sense why they called him _the Reaper_. He had managed to hide away for a bit, slumped against a wall and in the darkness–but it would only take so much longer for him to find the trail of blood he left. It didn’t take a genius to look at the ground, after all.

Or a _psychopath_ , for that matter.

A hushed, pained gripe was made as he removed his hand from the wound on his side, an attempt to gauge how badly injured he was–by the amount of blood he had loss, though, it was clear what kind of state he was in. Pressure reapplied with a grimace, he glanced around, nothing of use within range; just his luck. He couldn’t stay here any longer, and getting out was well near impossible without getting caught. Two choices left:

Win, and live–or lose, and die.

Whatever was going to happen, it was going to hurt–a lot. Left hand on his waist and right hand holding his rifle, a small gasp for air was made as he forced himself onto his feet, muttering a small ‘ _fuck_ ’ as he attempted to gather his composure. Movements were sluggish as he dragged his feet across the floor, instinctively making sure not to cause anything around him to collide whilst he made his way to the other end of the vast room. With each step though, the injury would make itself known with increasing magnitudes of aches and throbbing sensations; if it wasn’t for the intense training they gave him, he thought he’d be dead by now.

That was before the shadows had caught up to him.

It was the sounds of air whooshing in from various directions that caused him to raise his weapon with unsteady aim, eyes keeping the setting in check for any abrupt motions or sounds to prevent any further harm–but it was hard to watch for something that couldn’t be seen. All that he could make out, even with his visor activated, was nothing that was worth shooting at. He never dropped his guard, but even then…

“ _Still breathing_?”

By the time he turned around, it was already too late; a swift blow had knocked him back to the floor, a choked up groan fleeing from him, another one held back as a foot harshly implanted itself on top of his chest, well near the area that blood has seeped through. The assailant already made sure to kick his firearm away, nothing else to look at but _him_.

“Should have died back then,” his voice was raspy but still filled with the same cynical intonation, the expression that laid behind that mask already predictable. All he had to do was wait for him to show up again; it saved him the energy of a chase and got the prey tired by paranoia. A shame he didn’t get to see the look of agony on his face, but nothing felt more satisfying than being on top again. “You’re probably too stubborn to die, though, aren’t you.”

“Heh. Still more alive than you will ever be.” Such rebuttal earned him a kick to the side, all his might used to hold back whatever cries wanted to be made in order to prevent any more pleasure for the other. Breaths came ragged, the stress that his foot applied not making anything any easier. It was true, though–he didn’t know death, and he sure as hell wasn’t afraid of it; maybe that was why he felt so lax in the face of his old friend, now enemy. “Confident that you’ve won already as always, Gabriel.” Morrison knew he was most likely–if not, _would_ –die here in a pool of his own blood, but even so, the sly curve of his lips remained.

A growl at the sound of his name from those lips, his foot ground further into the soldier’s chest, only easing the pressure for a second before doing it again. “You’ve _lost_ , Jack.“ Crouching down, the distance between their masked faces shortened, personal space invaded. “You never had a damn chance,” Reaper sneered, hand roughly grabbing the fabric by his collars, a punch practically connected.

Muffled grunts were made, the slightest movement against him enough to be considered pain, what with his side untreated and chest more than bruised. He tried to keep his breaths somewhat steady, the growing weight on his lungs constricting his inhales. “This is considered a win to you?” His chuckles were short-lived, head forcibly lifted for a second and slammed down, coughs escaping him. Didn’t shut him up, though–it was going to take more than that. “Your standards have dropped,” the vigilante continued, a slight wince at the tightening grip.

His temper was shortening with each word, half a mind to just shoot him right then and there–but that would be no fun. “Always a smart ass,” a grumble, his other hand reached for the visor, pulling it down after weak resistance. To see him bloodied and bruised after all these years–it made him laugh, almost harder than he had ever in a long time. The scars that laid on his visage from their last encounter, in particular, made gave him that sort of _thrill_. “How does it feel to suffer? Wish you were dead yet?”

No longer able to hide his displays of pain behind his disguise, he left the slight curls of his lips there to throw him off. “And here I thought you’ve just been going easy on me,” his snarky comment uttered, a brow was raised in pair with his simper. A bluff, as always–Morrison was hurting bad, but it was nothing he would voice in the time he had left. It was something he would never admit to–if he was going to die, he would make sure to give as much inconveniences as possible. “I was wondering why you were taking so long,” he practically chimed.

A sharp exhale–of course, there was no way he wasn’t going to be a pain in the ass about this. Reyes expected it; even to the end, the other was going to try and make this irritable. A shame that he wouldn’t hear the words he wanted most, but no matter. “Don’t worry, it’s almost over for you,” he responded in a flat tone, another lift and slam being given, watching his victim’s face writhe for a moment. “Rules say you owe me one, anyway.”

Scoffs made and eyes rolled, a snarl almost formed, only stopped by the change of stress being added onto him. Adrenaline had helped him up to this point, but now he was beginning to become more cognizant of the amount of agony he was in. “Now,” a short breath, “You care about the rules. Ironic, for the homicidal maniac you’ve become, Gabriel.” Morrison let out a cough, the metallic taste now present. Even in this situation, he wasn’t going to step down and admit defeat; it wasn’t so much to save face as it was to not feed the other’s egocentric attitude. “Only took all these years to think of something.”

A weak huff escaped him in the pretense of a chuckle to his words. “It was worth the wait, Jack,” Reyes claimed, that confident timbre returning to him as he stood back up, hands moving to the insides of his cloak and leg still pinning the other down. One of those silly bets from back then being used now–not like it was the actual reason for all of this to happen, but that was how things were done.

Winners would be winners, and the losers would be losers.

“I’m sure,” the baited reply granted, his eyes followed the gaze of those moving hands. Jack knew the answer already, but even so, those few words left him without a second thought, that ever careless smile adorned, “And what was it?”

“Think you deserve at least that much, _ha_.” A slight shake of his head, the sounds of his neck cracking following soon after. Fingers had wrapped themselves around his firearm, pulled out and planted in front of Morrison’s face, trigger halfway back. “Your death.”

Head lifted to meet the muzzle, the curves of his lips only deepened, the recoil of discomfort only shown in his azure optics. “Shoot, then,” the nostalgic tone of challenge coated his words, even pushing against his shotgun in resemblance to playfulness.

“With pleasure.”

**Author's Note:**

> there were some things that I left entirely up to the reader's imagination because :3c  
> i also really like to use the italicize  
> ALSO when i was first writing this i asked some friends for help in the first segment and then [this](https://68.media.tumblr.com/4101a48e170a8a24664c7535cd0c7add/tumblr_ojsk3iDB9v1r774vpo1_500.png) happened and i just wanted to share that  
> anyway as always, thanks for reading! ❤


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